Strange
by HarryPotterGrl100
Summary: Rose never would admit it, but Cal affected her. Set right before/On Titanic.


**So hi, originally this was a one-shot but I kind of want to expand this into a (shorter) fic. It wouldn't have a lot of dialogue because I want to keep the tone I have going, if that makes sense. I welcome opinions if I should!**

It was strange, really.

Strange.

Whatever Ruth disliked, Rose loved. Whatever Rose disliked, Ruth loved. It was on principle.

So it was strange.

Rose never ever really paid any attention to him, as all he was was an unwanted marriage, hampering her freedom, her youth, her dreams, and locking her in a first-class cage. She didn't want to get married at all, yet. She would have been this way with any man her mother had picked. But then she caught herself. Yes, it was him. Wasn't it?

An unwanted person, really.

And his bodyguard was so annoying! She wished the man could go away.

However, she could feel just how...she didn't know how to explain it. She may have locked away her heart to him, but that didn't mean she couldn't look.

But, sometimes, she caught herself looking at him almost dreamily for a while, before quickly snapping back to attention. Chiding herself.

She couldn't help it.

There were his eyes. Brown, intense...dare she say it, beautiful.

And his face was gorgeous.

And that dark, soft hair of his, when not slicked back with dreadful grease, was actually very...pleasant.

And that slender build of his. Those hands...she sometimes imagined what they would be like, around her waist, drawing her almost into his body, seamlessly, so she could feel his heart beating for her.

It made her blush when she saw him.

And his scent made her feel as though she were intoxicated.

She wondered what it would be like to have him hold her in his arms, have him whisper how beautiful and precious she was to him, have him pledge his love to her, over and over again, so she could relive the words even when she was an old woman.

She wondered what it would be like to have him make love to her.

She wondered what it would be like to dance with him, run with him, frolic with him.

Then she scoffed. No man was like that in first-class.

But then...how well did she really know him?

Not very, was the (reluctant) sing-songing admission in her head.

She knew enough to know he could be conceited. Not dreadfully, if she really had to compare, but... But then, wasn't everybody a little bit?

She knew enough to know he had a horrid relationship with his father. Not that she blamed him.

She knew enough to know that sometimes, he could be...nice. Never uttering unkind words to the maids, especially Trudy.

She knew enough to know he could be brooding, mysterious sometimes. Not that that was bad. It only made her more curious about him.

She knew enough to know that they could never work. She would never let herself be taken in by his charms.

Yet...sometimes.

She caught herself. One day, she had forgotten to put up her guard by accident and smiled at him when he had spoken to her.

And he...what had he done? He had smiled back. Genuinely. A smile that had lit up his whole face. His smile...that affected her too.

It burned her.

Branded her.

She could feel how when he came in at night to say goodnight how her heart beat just a little faster, at the knowledge that they could do anything in that moment.

She knew he had experience in that field. She didn't. She knew she'd be embarassed; nervous. Her mother would have a fit. Not that she'd care, though.

Would he be gentle? Would he hold her?

Somehow, she caught herself thinking yes.

Only to scream no repeatedly in her head.

Yet...some days, lately, she caught herself wondering just how much he cared for her. If he did at all.

That was an understatement.

She knew he did at least, value her intellect, her fire, often laughing at her sarcastic remarks, even when aimed at him.

And...she knew he of course valued her supposed "beauty." But strangely, he was gentleman enough never to do anything without her consent. He never touched her.

She could see it in his eyes whenever he looked at her, though. That glint in his eyes whenever he lingered too long on her, only to quickly look away. Behind the love, behind the smile, she could see how affected he was by her.

She knew she caused him to lose track of time whenever he looked at her, in a way.

She often wondered if he wanted something more from her. Instead of sarcasm, kind words and more smiles from her.

She knew he did, even though he'd never ask.

So then she asked herself: Would she regret it, when she was an old woman, at the end of her life, never having had a real relationship with him, never making an effort to return his feelings. instead of one borne of a daughter's hate and a mother's desperation?

And the answer was yes.


End file.
